In Answer to Your Questions
by mdime
Summary: "There was little worse than a Josh without information - except, perhaps, a trapped Josh without information."


**Title:** In Answer to Your Questions****

**Rating: **PG-13****

**Category:** general/romance****

**Spoilers:** nothing overly specific****

**Summary: **"There was little worse than a Josh without information – except, perhaps, a _trapped_ Josh without information."****

**Archive: **ask...it and other stories can be found at  GOTOBUTTON BM_1_ http://www.angelfire.com/pa5/mdime02/ , but another home is welcome as well.****

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, but come on, did you honestly think they were?  ****

**Author's Note: **So, I'm not sure what exactly Sorkin's plans for Amy are, but I'm assuming that she'll be gone before election time, which is when this story is set.  Other than that, you just have to imagine that it's November already.

            It was Election Day, and to say that Josh was on edge would be so far beyond an understatement as to be laughable.  He wanted numbers, he wanted them yesterday, and he wanted them all to be in his favor.  He divided his day between attempting to work, yelling for information, and bouncing.  He was a big ball of nervous energy, and would be bordering on unbearable if not for the fact that everyone else was almost as bad.  Donna had dealt with him as best she could, but this was beyond polling numbers, post-State of the Union waits (with or without electricity), primary season, even the first election.  Her level of tolerance had been slipping, maintained only by the knowledge that the 'work day', if they could even pretend to call it that, was rapidly coming to an end.  Soon they would all be done running the country for the day and settle in together to watch as results came in, and everyone figured that it was only the knowledge that he would be surrounded by non-stop television, numbers, and commentary that was keeping Josh sane.  

            And so the first forty minutes were hell.

            Josh slumped to the floor hoarse, tired, momentarily discouraged.  Donna watched him from across the room; he was unable to keep still, fidgeting like a child.  She had given up relatively early, certain that Josh made more than enough noise to compensate for her contributions.

            It was his fault, really.  Not that she would ever be able to get him to admit that, no matter how long they were stuck there.  It was his fault, but, truthfully, he was already suffering enough for it.

            "They'll find us soon Josh, it's not like people get lost in the White House.  We just have to wait."

            He made an indistinguishable noise, something between  grunt, groan, and snort, before pushing himself back to his feet and resuming his assault – both verbal and physical – against the door.

            "Josh, sit down.  I think they'll notice when we don't show up in the Residence.  I can't say they won't be grateful...but they'll notice."

            He paused, turning towards her.  "Who was the last person to see us?"

            "Ummm...Toby, I think."

            "Did he know where we were going?"

            "_We_ were not going anywhere.  _I_ was sent by my demanding, unappreciative, control freak of a boss to get some files.  _You_ are the one who decided, apparently, that I wasn't fast enough and followed me down here."

  


            "Yeah...well...if you had simply performed your tasks in a timely manner –"

  


             "Joshua Lyman!  Two minutes.  I barely made it to the correct _hallway_ before you came after me!"

            "I just wanted to get done," he whined.

            "And look where we are now."

            "We're supposed to be with the President."

            "That's not happening at the moment."

            "Do you think he'll know to come get us?"

            "The President?"

            "Toby."

            "How would he know where we are?  _We_ don't even know where we are."

            "There was supposed to be a stairway here, Donna."

            Donna gestured at the room they were in.  "I don't see any stairs.  I see a small room, with one door.  And no door handle."

            "How does a door not have a door handle?"

            "Do I look like a carpenter?"

            "Would a carpenter really be the person to talk to about that?"

            She sighed.  "How would I know?"

            There was silence for a minute.  Josh sat down again.

            "I need numbers."

            "You've said that.  Many times.  In fact, I think you yelled that more times than you yelled 'help' and 'let us out.'"

            "And how long have we been in here?"

            "Okay, so that one's a close second...it's definitely between that and whatever you were yelling about this not being allowed to happen on an election night."

            "That doesn't help me, Donna."

            "I think you're beyond help at this point."

            "I'll be fine if we can find a television hidden somewhere in here."

            "Sorry."

            "So how long have –"

            "Forty two minutes, thirty seven and a half seconds."

            "Oh."  His brow furrowed in confusion.  "Wait...you aren't actually counting the seconds, right?"

            "Just estimating."

            "Okay."

            Josh was becoming impatient again, tapping his fingers against the floor.

            "Now how long –"

            "Josh!"

            "Right.  Patience.  I have to be patient."

            "Catching on, are you?"

            "No, but I want to live to see the numbers."

            "Ah, I see."

            "Do you think I should yell some more?"

            "I really don't think it will do any good, you've done nothing but yell for more than half an hour and here we are."

            "But someone might be passing by."

            "No one is going to pass by...there's an election going on today, remember?"

            "Which is why we need to get out of here."

            "We will."

            "But I need numbers!"

            "Josh."

            "Numbers, Donnatella.  Numbers, and maps, and graphs, and early data, and –"

            "As soon as we get out."

            "Which will be...?"

            Donna sighed, shaking her head.  She thought Josh had been bad earlier today, when he had been secure in the knowledge that he and select staffers would be watching everything unfold second by second in the Residence with the President and the First Family.  Now...he had no way of knowing how long he would be without information.  Josh hated not having information.  There was little worse than a Josh without information – except, perhaps, a _trapped_ Josh without information.

            "We were supposed to head up in about...forty minutes?  They'll figure that we got tied up with work for another ten, fifteen at the most, after which they'll realize that there is no way you would be missing this unless you were...oh, I don't know..._trapped in a small room without a door handle down some forgotten corridor in the basement of the White House!!_ " Donna took a breath to calm herself before continuing.  "After that, they'll try to remember the last time they saw us,  look around a bit upstairs.  They know we're still in the building, so once they've done that it should only be another twenty minutes or so.  We'll be out, we'll get numbers, and we'll get to see them call the election for Josiah Bartlet."

            "You sound fairly confident in your...wait.  No, no, no.  You're telling me we'll be stuck here for another _two hour_s before..."

            "It's just a guess, Josh."

            "Two _hour_s?"

            "How old are you, Joshua?"

            "I can't be stuck in here for two hours, I can't."

            "Not if you keep up with the pounding and the yelling.  If you would just sit quietly for a while, I'll be tempted to let you live."

            "Two _hours_?"

            "I believe we have established that as a feasible time frame, yes."

            "But Donna...two _hours_?"

            "Did you somehow miss the word quiet?  The whining is just as bad as the yelling."

            "But –"

            "You need numbers.  I know."

            "And –"

            "A way out.  Yes."

            "Also –"

            "Numbers.  You said that already."

            He was quiet after that for almost a full minute. 

             "You sure we can't...I don't know, crawl through an air vent or something?"

            "Josh!"

            "What?"  He looked at the ceiling for a moment before realizing the fault in his plan.  "Right.  No air vent."

            "Actually, I was going more along the lines of a simple 'Josh, you're crazy,' but that works, too."

            "I don't see you coming up with any ideas."

            "That's because I realize that we are stuck here, and we are going to stay that way until someone comes and lets us out."

            "I refuse to acknowledge that."

            "Of course you do."

            More silence.

            "Well, we have to do something."

            "We are."

            "No we're not."  He paused, thinking.  "Are we?"

            Donna attempted to glare at him menacingly but couldn't keep a grin from her face.  He laughed.

            "So...did you really mean that?"

            "Absolutely."  Donna nodded vigorously.

            "Do you know what I'm talking about?"

            "Absolutely not."

            "Right.  I figured."  Josh stood up and began to pace – slowly, but it was pacing nonetheless.

            "So?"

            "That we'll win.  Did you mean that?"

            "Of course."

            "Why?"

            "Because we will.  Right?"

            "Of course.  Well, if we're both sure, that makes..."  His voice became muffled as he walked away from where she was sitting, and she missed the end of his sentence.

            "What was that?"

            "Huh?"

            "What you just said, I missed the end of that."

            "I said 'of course.'"

            "After that."

            He stopped in front of her, looking at her nervously for a moment.  "Nothing."

            "Wait –"

            "It was nothing."

            "That was not nothing, Joshua, that was definitely something."

            "No, really..."

            "Yes, really..."

            He sighed, turned, stared at her again.

            "Well?  You going to share with the class?  It's not as if we have anything better to talk about."

            "Fine...Donna...I have a question for you."

            "Go ahead."

            "Two, actually."

            "I'm not stopping you."

            "Not now."

            "You want me to stop you?"

            "No.  It's...I have a question."

            "I've gathered that.  In fact, I can even tell you that there are two questions.  I cannot, however, tell you what you're asking in either, so..."

            Josh turned, stopped pacing, turned again.  He went as if to sit, then changed his mind, remaining standing but leaning against the wall.

            Donna sat, waiting.

            He tapped his fingers against the wall, beating out some unknown tune first rapidly, then slowly, switching between the two rhythms irregularly.

            Donna sat, waiting.

            Josh pushed himself away from the wall, resuming his pacing.

            She sighed.  "71."

            He stopped to look at her, head tilted and brow furrowed in confusion.  "What?"

            "71."

            "I'm still not –"

            "71 words, four commas."

            "Donna, what are you –"

            "That's my answer."

            "Okay."

            He stood there without moving for a full two minutes, silence filling the room.  Then:

            "You do realize that that bears absolutely _no_ relation to the question."

            "Doesn't matter.  It's a good answer."

            More silence.

            "So...what was the question?"

            "Wouldn't _you_ like to know."

            "Okay, that was way too smug, Josh."

            "Can I help it if you go around answering questions that haven't been asked yet?"

            "I still stand by my answer."

            "Remind me why I let you hire yourself?"

            "Because you are hopelessly disorganized, incredibly demanding, egotistical, arrogant, short-tempered, capable of being mean yet thinking you were sweet, difficult to work with...I could go on but, face it, Josh, no one else would put up with you."

            He scoffed, waving her comments aside.

            "So...the questions?"

            "What about them?"

            "You know, I could just leave my answer the way it is."

            "I thought you liked your answer?"

            "I do, I was just leaving open the option for revision."

            "You mean you might not have gotten it right the first time?"

            "Oh, I got it right.  The question is whether you got your part of it correct."

            "Wait...hold on.  I'm the one with the questions, right?"

            "Is that one of them?"

            "Donna!"

            "Well, you asked for it."

            He started to pace again.  She closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the wall.

            "How –"

            "One hour, fourteen minutes."

            "You have got to stop doing that."

            "Not really."

            "Okay."  

            "I'm supposed to do that."

            "Okay."

            "It's my job."

            "Donna, you can stop now."

            "Right."

            "So...I've got these questions."

            "You've said that, but I have yet to hear the evidence."

            "Well, the thing of it is – hold on, actually there are two things."

            "And still no question."

            "But does it really matter what the question was?  You've already given your answer."

            "True, but as I said I'm open to revision."

            "It was a good answer."

            "How would you know?"

            Josh smiled.  "Oh, I know things."

            "Granted, yes, you do occasionally know things, but –"

            "Hey, I'm the Deputy Chief of Staff!"

            "A fact that never ceases to amaze me."

            "Donna!"

            She looked at him calmly.  "Yes, Joshua?"

            "I...you...I..."

            "I thought so."

            He went back to pounding on the door, but had no more success than with any of his previous efforts.  Donna, meanwhile, had been unable to stop giggling.  He turned from the door in frustration, attempting a stern glare.

            "Would you stop that!"

            She shook her head.

            "Are you not the least bit concerned that we are missing the _election_?  You know, that thing that determines whether or not we'll have jobs in two months?"

            "So this is a big thing?"

            "Donna!"

            "All I'm saying is, someone should have warned me...I mean, I noticed that there has been a bit of activity in the office the last several months, but really, that could have been almost anything – even a war.  I didn't miss an entire war, did I?"

            Josh debated between shouting and pacing, since talking to Donna was apparently out of the question.  The pacing won out...for a while, at least.

            "Why are you doing that?"

            "Doing what?"

            "Pacing."

            "Is there something you prefer I do?  I thought yelling, banging on the door, and all other possibly productive activities had been banned."

            "They have been."

            "Well?"

            "I just...it's annoying."

            "I have no numbers.  I have no exit polls.  I have no graphics, special logos, or theme music.  I have no election results whatsoever.  I am stuck in a small basement room in the White House.  I have been here now for..."

            "One hour, thirty six minutes."

            "One hour and thirty six minutes.  My assistant seems less than concerned.  I have been specifically instructed to sit quietly, and I –"

            "Have never sat quietly for anything in your entire life.  And I want results as much as you do, but we aren't going to get them down here."

            "Then let's get out of here."

            "We can't."

            "Oh.  Right."  He sighed, swinging his arms at his sides.  "So what now?"

            "Nothing's changed, Josh.  They'll come.  We'll wait."

            "See, that's the part of the plan I don't like."

            "You're out of luck there."

            "Yeah.  But I really,_ really_ want numbers."

            "At least we don't have to worry about the electricity going out."

            "True.  So Donna, I've come up with a solution."

            "You mean you've got a key and have only been pretending that we're stuck in order to cause your already overworked, underpaid assistant severe mental anguish by being forced to listen to the essentially incoherent ramblings of one Joshua Lyman?"

            "I...uhh...no...Donna, how do you do that?"

            "Do what?"  She smiled innocently.

            "That."

            "That?"

            "Yes."

            "Practice."

            "Figures."

            "Anyway, you claim to have had a solution?"

            "Oh.  Yes.  It all works out if you phrase your answer in the form of a question."

            "Which...?  Oh.  The 71."

            "Yeah: that way, you can have it still be an answer – and a valid one – while also technically, in a manner of speaking, be a question."

            "Okay, Josh...technically in a manner of speaking?"

            "Work with me here, Donna."

            "I try."

            "And the evidence of that is where?"

            "You did say you wanted to live for the results, right?"

            "Oh.  I'll just take that back then."

            "Good boy."

            He sat down, but Donna was sure that it would not last much longer than any of the other times.  He truly was incorrigible, but he was Josh, and that was really all the reason any of them had ever needed.

            "So we're playing Jeopardy now?" she asked.

            "Huh?"

            "Answers in the form of questions."

            "Right.  Yes.  Except not later, just this one."

            "Are we ever going to get to _your_ questions, or did you just make them up to torment me?"

            "Oh, they exist.  You just aren't ready to hear a question yet."

            "I'm ready.  I've been ready."

            "No, you've got to wait.  In the meantime, we've got your answer."

            "Yes, that we do."

            "So?"

            "Are you serious, Josh?"

            "Absolutely.  Besides, you're the one who said we had nothing better to do."

            "I suppose I did.  Guess I should have said that we should take a nap."

            Josh snorted.  "Yeah, because I really see that happening."

            "Fine, whatever."

            They lapsed into silence, and Donna thought that she would finally get a moment of peace before she saw Josh making moves to stand again.

            "Stop!  I give up!  Just please no more pounding on the door, I can't take any more."

            He settled back again, leaning against the wall.

            She sighed.  "What is 71?"

            "Excellent.  Now I don't have to worry about your answer anymore."

            "You were worried in the first place?"

            "Yeah."

            "Why?"

            "Because."

            "Josh..."

            "Now who's whining, Donnatella?"

            "What is wrong with you?"

            "Why does something have to be wrong with me?"

            "There are many, many things wrong with you, but that's not the point.  You've got a question, I've got an answer, I'm sure that we can get together on the whole thing if you would just _ask me the damn question_!"

            "Wow.  Donna.  I think you need to calm down a bit."

            "Fine.  You want it that way, Joshua?  Two can play at this, and I'll have you know that the President recommended a book to me on the history of –"

            "Stop!  No!  My ears, my ears!"

            "– economic gains derived from –"

            "Please, Donna.  I'll behave, I swear!"

            "– technological advances in pre-industrial New England.  It's really quite interesting."

            He stared at her in disbelief.  "You're kidding, right?  That one is definitely going on my list."

            "Which list?"

            "The 'books I would eat rather than read' list."

            "I warned you.  Now...I have facts, I have figures, I have historical context, I have random information, and I'm telling you, I am not afraid to use any or _all_ of it."

            "Do you have current exit poll data?"

            "No."

            "How about the state by state breakdowns?"

            "No."

            "Then do you know –"

            "I know that in 1782 the –"

            "Okay.  That's more than enough.  I'll stop now.  If you just..."

            "Just what, Josh?"

            He looked at her sheepishly.  "How long have we been in here now?"

            "Uhh...we're a few minutes short of two hours."

            Josh sighed, leaning his head against the wall.  "I need to get out of here..."

            "Yeah."

            "I really, really need to get out of here."

            "Why?  You didn't have plans for tonight, did you?"

            "Actually, yes.  I did."

            "Oh?"

            "Yeah.  Didn't you get the memo?  It's election night."

            "Well, somebody screwed up there, because I'm fairly certain that the location for any and all festivities was not this...wherever we are.  This room."

            "But here we are."

            "Here we are."

            They were both quiet for a while after that. 

            Donna sighed, stretching for a minute before standing, wandering slowly through the small room.  Josh sat still, turning his head to follow her movements.

            "Do you think it's supposed to be an office?"

            "This room?"

            "Yeah."

            "I guess..."  He wasn't really interested in the room.  "I thought pacing was banned?"

            "It was.  For you.  And I'm not."

            "You're not me?"

            "I'm not you, which is a good thing for several reasons.  I'm also not pacing."

            "Looks like it to me."

            "I got tired of sitting.  Just because I don't fidget like _some_ people..."

            "I don't fidget.  I'm...anxious.  Energetic."

            "Impatient.  Obsessive-compulsive.  Possibly insane."

            "Hey!  I haven't demanded numbers or the time in almost..."

            "Six minutes.  That might be a record."

            Josh stood and walked over to Donna, looking at the filing cabinet between them.  "We could always reorganize whatever files are in here while we're waiting."

            Donna looked at him in shock.  "Oh, God.  It's been too long...we've passed the point of no return."

            He laughed.  "What, don't you think I can file?"

            "I _know_ you can't file.  Remember?  You – hopelessly disorganized.  Me – the lone voice of reason."

            "I can file!  I can...alphabetize."

            "So can a first grader."

            "Well fine then.  You're the bored one."

            "Right, Mr. I Need Numbers Right Now."

            "Yes.  I still need numbers.  But I can file in the mean time."

            Donna just shook her head, trying not to encourage the insanity. Unfortunately, Josh was not easily dissuaded, and he reached to open one of the drawers.  Donna grabbed his hands, dragging him away from the filing cabinet to the far side of the room.

            "No.  No filing.  We're not that desperate yet."

            "Speak for yourself.  I was desperate more than two hours ago."

            "Hasn't done you much good, has it?"

            "Not really, no." 

            "So."

            "So."

            "You know what you need?"

            "I'm assuming that means besides numbers, a way out, and the time?"

            "Right."

            "Well...not much comes to mind.  Except for those things in a different order, I think we've covered all the important stuff."

            "I believe you're overlooking something.  Some questions, perhaps?"

            Josh smirked, amused at her continued frustration and his ability to have at least a little fun with their predicament.  "This is your fault, you know."

            "My fault?  Since when is it my fault?"

            "Well..." he said slowly, taking a step closer to her, "it could be argued, in effect, since you drove to New Hampshire and started looking through my appointment book and answering my phone.  But really, I just meant since we ended up in here."

            "We're here because a staircase isn't."

            "I suppose."

            "So you might as well give up...whatever it is you're doing...and ask me the questions before you are no longer alone in your conviction that the files need to be reorganized."

            "But what if they do?"

            "Josh!"

            "Donna."

            "Josh..."

            "No?  It was worth a try."

            Donna sighed in annoyance.  "Come on, Josh.  I don't see why you're making this into such a big deal.  I know you want to get out of here, I know you want numbers, but driving me crazy is not going to help."

            "Are you sure?"

            She glared.

            "Okay, then."

            "Well?  I'm not going anywhere..."

            "Right.  How long have we been in here?"

            "I'm not telling you until you ask me your questions."

            "That's not fair."

            "Neither are you."

            Josh crossed his arms, glaring at her.  She glared back.

            Silence.

            Neither moved.

            The impromptu staring contest could have continued indefinitely had Josh not suddenly dipped his head, dimpled grin visible as he quickly turned away.  Donna grabbed his arm, stopping him.

            "Josh..."

            He looked up, meeting her eyes.

            "Joshua, are you laughing at me?"

            "No.  I'm not.  I just..."

            "Yeah?"

            "I, uhh..."

            "This is me, waiting."

            "I'm not...I can't..."

            "I'm not giving in.  No more time updates for you."

            "But Donna," he whined.

            "No."

            "But –"

            "Absolutely not."

            "I want to, really, but I can't."

            "Why not?"

            "Two reasons."

            "And they would be..."

            Josh sighed, debating the relative merits of pacing again...or pounding on the door.  He could feel productive if he was pounding on the door, calling for help – and, more importantly, numbers.  Maybe telling her that he had a question to ask her when he knew full well that he wasn't allowed to ask it yet had been a tactical error.  He was, on the other hand, very close to a breakdown due to lack of information so he figured that he could be excused.  Donna, however, did not look like she was in the mood to excuse him at the moment.

            "I'm waiting."

            "Donna, I like my job."

            "That's great Josh, but that's really not the discussion we're having right now."

            "Actually, it is.  And you know why?  Because I like my job."

            "See, you lost me there."

            "I want to keep my job."

            "And we can find out if you're successful as soon as we get out of this room."

            "Well, yeah, but that's not what I meant."

            "So what did you mean?"

            "No questions until after the election."

            "No questions until after the election?"

            "Yes."

            "What does that have to do with you keeping your job?"

            "Exactly that.  No questions until after the election."

            "Leo told you that –"

            "The President."

            "The President told you that you couldn't ask your questions until after the election?"

            "Yes."

            "So the President knows the question?"

            "He does."

            "Anyone else?"

            "Yes."

            "Do they know the answer?"

            He scoffed.  "Everyone knows the answer.  It's 71, isn't it?"

            "Joshua..."

            "Although, I must confess that I was always under the impression that the answer was 42."

            "Well, that too.  But I was answering a specific question."

            "A specific question which you had not yet heard."

            "And still have yet to hear, which brings me to my point."

            "There was a point?"

            "Not as such, no, but –"

            "Donna," he interrupted, "have you spent a bit too much time around Ainsley lately?"

            "Perhaps."

            "Okay."

            "The President?"

            "What?"

            "The President threatened your job over a question?"

            "Well, he didn't exactly...what he said was...yes.  Yes he did."

            "But was he serious?"

            "Let's not find out."

            "Huh.  I didn't break any rules by answering, did I?"

            "I don't think so."

            "Good.  I don't think he meant it, though."

            "I'd rather not take the risk."

            "Would he really know?"

            "Did you somehow manage to forget who we're talking about here?"

            "Oh.  Right.  So..."

            "So?"

            "Job security is one reason.  What's the other?"

            Josh sighed.  "Can we just...move on to another topic?  Like the time?"

            "In a minute."

            "And in one minute how long will we have been in here?"

            "One minute longer that we have been right now."

            "Not helping."

            "Not supposed to."

            Josh made a break for the door but Donna quickly stepped in front of him.  "No.  No pounding.  No yelling."

            "I want to get out of here."

            "Soon."

            "Now."

            "Not really your choice."

            "Can we change that part?"

            "Do you have a doorknob hidden somewhere?"

            "Do you?"

            "I am not aware of any.  We'd need more than just a doorknob, though."

            "Like what?"

            "I don't know...like a screwdriver.  And screws.  Possibly we'd start with a saw."

            "It's a metal door."

            "Then I guess that's not the best plan."

            "Probably not."

            "So we're back to waiting."

            Josh sighed, obviously not happy with that option.  "Donna, please?"

            She looked at him skeptically.

            "Please?"

            She rolled her eyes, knowing what he was asking for and knowing that she was going to give in.  "Two hours and fifty one minutes."

            Josh smiled, bouncing on the balls of his feet in what could only be described as glee.  "You told me!"

            "Yes, Josh."

            "You said you wouldn't."

            "I know."

            "But you did."

            "I did."

            Josh stopped bouncing, serious once more.  "Donna I would tell you, really, but..."  He stared at her thoughtfully for a minute before continuing.  "I think I agree with him.  I didn't want to at first, but we compromised, and now I think he was right.  Even though this might have been the perfect opportunity."

            "This is something I need to be trapped in a room with no escape for?"

            "I'm being serious, Donna."

            "I know."

            "This was certainly an...unexpected development."

            "Really?  Not part of the Lyman master plan?"

            "If it was there would be a television in here.  A radio, even.  Phone line.  Computer.  Fax machine.  Any type of technology whatsoever that would be able to provide us with information."

            "Ah, I see.  I don't count, you only want the numbers."

            "Well...you give me numbers sometimes.  When you're not being mean."

            "Mean?"  Donna stared at him incredulously.  "When am I ever mean to you?"

            "The rules.  The rules were mean.  They also, coincidentally, prohibited me from getting a great deal of information.  In addition to fresh air and sunlight."

            "Hey, you were free to get as much sunlight as you wanted.  The fresh air was expressly forbidden by all of your doctors."

            "Oh, and you listen to them instead of me?"

            "When aside from your personal doctors I'm getting information from the Surgeon General and the First Lady?  Yes, I do."

            "They weren't actually my doctors."

            "No, but you try explaining that to them."

            "That still doesn't excuse all of the other rules."

            "They were for your own good."

            He was staring at her again, in such a way that she couldn't tell what he was thinking. When he spoke, he spoke softly.  "I know."

            "Anyway, I'm not mean to you."

            "I know."

            "You're really not going to ask your questions?"

            "I'm really not."

            "Okay."  Donna sighed, swinging her arms at her sides and meandering through the small room.  She sat down.  "Josh?"

            He walked over, sitting down beside her.  "Yeah?"

            "Are we really going to win?"

            He nodded.  "Yeah.  Yeah, we're really going to win."

            "Good."

            They sat, quietly.

            This time Donna broke the silence.  "You think they're having fun without us?"

            "Is that even possible?"

            "We should have a decent sample by now ‑‑ some of the east coast polls will be closing soon."

            Josh groaned.  "Don't remind me."

            "I'm just saying."

            "Numbers.  There are numbers to be had and I do not have them."

            "At least we've already voted...you can work with that."

            "Right.  There's the President, who I am assuming voted for himself.  First Lady, also a likely Bartlet voter.  Sam, CJ, Toby.  You and me.  Leo and Margaret.  Charlie.  I'm going to assume that the rest of the senior assistants voted for us, and Ed and Larry, too."

            "See that?  Out of the approximately 130 million registered voters in the United States, Bartlet's got sixteen votes.  Landslide victory."

            Josh shook his head, grinning.  "That doesn't quite constitute a majority."

            "Close enough."

            "We have more definite votes to add.  I think we'll get the rest of the First Family, too, but only because we campaigned in that area vigorously.  Most of the White House staff, part of Congress..."

            "We're better off not guessing.  The Bartlet daughters is three, Elizabeth's husband is four.  That gives us 20 definites, so whatever else happens we'll have at least that many."

            "As long as our campaign money was well spent."

            "Yeah."

            "Wait, you can add in my mom.  Mallory has to be a safe bet as well."

            "22."

            "Well, this is promising."

            "What happens when we run out of votes to count?"

            "We've still got the filing cabinet."

            "Never mind.  Back to the all‑Bartlet election results."

            "Okay.  We can add..."  Josh trailed off, leaping to his feet and putting his ear to the door.  "Donna!  Did you hear that?"

            "Maybe.  You have my permission to recommence pounding and yelling now."

            He didn't need to be told twice.  Almost as soon as he knocked on the door, they both heard a faint "Mr. Lyman?"

            "In here!"  He knocked again, loudly, then turned to Donna with a broad grin on his face.  "Numbers, Donnatella!  Numbers!"

            She stood, equally happy but laughing at his one-track mind.  "Freedom...and no filing.  At least, until tomorrow.  Now away from the door before you get hit with it."

            He stepped back obediently, still close to bouncing in excitement.  They waited breathlessly for a minute, as if scared of jinxing their good luck, and then the door opened.  Two agents looked in at them curiously.

            "Mr. Lyman, are you okay?  Miss Moss?"

            "We're fine, we're...great."  Josh grabbed Donna's hand and dragged her out of the room, stopping in front of their rescuers.  "You don't happen to have any numbers, do you?"

            "No, sir.  Excuse me."  The agent brought his wrist up, speaking into the mouthpiece.  "We've found them, sir.  They were stuck in one of the basement rooms."  He paused for a minute, listening.  "Yes, they're on their way up now."

            The agent nodded at Josh who, unmindful of the fact that he was still holding Donna's hand, began to run down the hallway.  Initially startled, she soon caught up and they ran quickly, together, down the corridor and up the stairs.  They paused for a moment when they spotted their first television, but Donna pulled a reluctant Josh away before he had time to become mesmerized by the screen.

            "Donna!  I wanted to see –"

            "Upstairs."

            Josh grinned, tugging her hand.  "Then let's go."

            They slowed to a respectable speed when they reached the Residence.  The secret service agents knew they were coming, but it was always best to err on the side of caution – no matter how much one wanted numbers – where the service was concerned.

            The President spotted them first and waved them into the room.  "Joshua!  Donnatella!  Glad you could join us tonight."

            "Sorry we're late, sir.  We were...delayed."

            "So I hear.  Apparently my house needs some maintenance."

            Leo approached them next, eyeing Josh suspiciously until he let go of Donna's hand.  "Where have the two of you been?"

            "Somewhere we could gain a greater appreciation of the necessity of door handles.  Which we did.  Now please, give me numbers before I am no longer held accountable for my actions."

            "Go."

            Josh needed no further encouragement.  They got their numbers, along with a fair amount of jokes at their expense.  The evening became significantly more normal after that...or at least as normal as an election night can be.  There was much conversation, debate, anxious waiting; Josh still yelled for results, but now he was in a position to get them.

            Eventually, finally, the moment came.  A hush fell throughout the room; they collectively held their breath.  It was announced.  The group of people gathered there had never been silent for so long.  They all looked to President Bartlet, waiting for him to speak first.

            "Well, that's it then.  Back to work everybody!"

            That broke the spell.  The quiet room suddenly became filled with cheers, a delightful chaos of hugs and congratulations.  Josh grabbed Donna, swinging her around a few times before they were both attacked by Sam.  Someone turned on music and a flurry of dancers were added to the mix.  Margaret dragged Donna away to join Bonnie and Carol.  Josh made his way over to the Charlie and Zoe, hugging both and kissing the later.  Toby joined them, whispering something in Josh's ear.  The two excused themselves, stealing Sam from CJ as they passed on their way to the far side of the room.

            Donna watched out of the corner of her eye as Sam, Toby, and Josh engaged in what looked to be a serious conversation away from the others.  Though the celebration around them was as raucous as ever, the group of men seemed oblivious.  Intrigued, she tried to get closer, but was sidetracked by the sudden appearance of Ed and Larry in her path.  When she next thought to look at them, Leo and the President had joined them.  The President and Josh were speaking seriously.  Leo handed something to Josh, which he tucked into his pocket.  Sam slung his arm around Josh's shoulder, blocking her view, although she could hear their laughter.

            Figuring that she could pester Josh for information later, Donna wove her way through the crowd to talk to CJ.  A few minutes later, Abbey called for CJ to join her, leaving Donna alone.  Turning to grab a drink, Donna bumped into Toby.  "Donna!  You," he said accusingly, "haven't danced with me yet this evening."

            She laughed.  "No, I don't think I have."

            "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

            They danced.  Toby asked about her recent imprisonment with Josh, marveling at her patience.  Looking around the room for the culprit, she spotted him this time secluded with Abbey and CJ.  Something was definitely up, she just had to find out what it was.

            Ginger came to steal Toby, so Donna went in search of Margaret.  She found her with Carol and quickly joined their conversation.

            Eventually Josh made his way back to Donna.  "Time to find us a better party, Donnatella."

            She looked at him confusedly, unsure what he could possibly mean.  "A better party?  The President's personal celebration isn't up to your standards?"

            "He's kicking me out."

            "He's...what?"

            "Us, actually.  We're both being kicked out of the President's party."

            "But Josh –"

            He laughed at the look of horror on her face.  "Donna, don't worry.  We just have something to attend to first, and then we can come back, okay?"

            "Oh...okay."  Slightly reassured, and intrigued by the eager way Josh tugged at her hand, she followed.

            Figuring they were headed back down to the west wing, Donna was surprised when Josh stopped in front of one of the residence's bedrooms.  "We're going to party in the Lincoln bedroom?"

            "This isn't the Lincoln bedroom," he said as he opened the door, "that's two doors down and on the other side of the hall."

            "Oh.  Then where are we?"

            Josh shrugged his shoulders as they entered.  "You think I know these things?  I just remember which door to go in."

            "You thought you knew where a staircase was a few hours ago, why should I trust that we're in the right place now?"

            "Hey, I know more about the White House than Sam."

            "The pastry chef knows more about the White House than Sam."

            "So that's not the best example.  Just trust me, we're in the right room."

            Josh held out his arm, indicating that she should sit on the couch.  She looked up at him expectantly.

            He sat down next to her.  "So earlier this evening, I made the mistake of mentioning to you that I had a question to ask.  We made it out of that room, we got the results, and we have jobs for the next four years.  Having received permission from the President, I think we can finally get this over with."  His serious face disappeared, replaced by a dimpled grin.  "Unless, of course, you wanted to skip this whole thing and go with your first answer."

            "I think that would be a bad idea."

            "All right, then.  I know that I was a bit...anxious...stuck in that room without numbers and without knowing how long we'd be there, but it was as much for this as for the election.  Maybe more.  So I want you to just be patient with me, and let me do most of the talking for a while, okay?"

            She nodded.

            "Close your eyes."  She did and he got up, retrieving something from a table at the far side of the room.  "I have a present for you, and I want you to keep in mind that I had to gather these all by myself."

            He placed it in her lap as he sat back down.  "Okay."

            She opened her eyes, smiling as she saw her present.  Several dozen beautiful roses, each of a different color, had been laid into a wooden basket.  She looked up at Josh, intending to thank him, when she realized something and quickly looked down again at the basket she held.  None of the roses had opened yet.  He had...he had gathered rosebuds.  For her.

            "Oh, Josh..."

            "Now don't get all emotional just yet, you haven't even noticed the best part."  He reached over and picked up one of the roses, holding it out for her to take.  

            A small card dangled on a ribbon from the stem, and looking into the basket she could see that each rose had one.  She read aloud.  "For hiring yourself."

            "Because, let's face it, if the decision had been left to anyone else it wouldn't have happened.  You just walked in and took over; I didn't stand a chance.  What's next?"

            "For coming back."

            "A month without you.  I was told by one and all that it was the worst month they ever spent with me.  Despite vehement protestations on my part, I confess that I agree."

            "For keeping me organized."

            "Self explanatory, but definitely not simple."

            "For your patience."

            "Goes back to the last one...and then some.  I know I don't always deserve your patience, but I'm definitely thankful for it."

            "For knowing what's best for me, and making sure I do it."

            "Most of the time, anyway."

            Donna smiled, knowing that there some things even she couldn't prevent, despite her best efforts.  "For your trivia."

            "Which I not only listen to, but remember."

            "For your distinctive penmanship."

            She looked up at him, laughing, but he just shrugged.

            "For looking for me out the window."

            "Because that brightens my day, whether or not I show it."

            "For your intelligence."

            "An obvious one, but...."

            "For not bringing me coffee."

            "Which is highly underappreciated on my part, and I want you to know that I will continue to underappreciate it in the future."

            "For putting me in my place."

            "I suspect that has something to do with the withholding of my coffee.  Also the sarcastic replies which greet my reasonable requests...and the smacks upside the head, the I-told-you-so's, the rolling of the eyes, the –"

            "Okay, I get it.  Moving on now..."

            "A little eager, are we?  I'll have you know that I was insulted repeatedly downstairs and said not a word."

            "But could you deny any of it?"

            "That's completely not the point.  What's next?"

            "For late nights, early mornings, and all-nighters."

            "Which, if you add them up, basically equates to every day.  You knew it wasn't a nine to five when you signed on, but I don't think you believed me when I told you that the government never sleeps."

            "For tying my ties."

            "Because goodness knows I'll never be able to do it, and relying on Sam doesn't always work out."

            "For watching my sensitive system."

            "And that's the only time you're going to get me to admit it."

            "For your smile."

            "Because it lights up your face, and more often than not mine as well."

            "For the research I didn't know I needed."

            "Not that I need _all_ of what you bring me...."

            "For letting me give you flowers in April."

            "Like I said, I'm glad you came back, and I'm not trying to be mean, or petty, or make you think about what you left or what you came back to.  I just..."  He shrugged.  He couldn't really explain that one.

            "For running red lights."

            "Or at least the threat to.  Just be careful, promise?"

            "I promise."  She picked up the next rose.  "For your honesty."

            "Which I think we covered somewhat with the 'putting me in my place' bit.  But you are honest, and I count on that."

            "For your optimism."

            "Which I'd like to steal, or at least borrow once in a while."

            "For your love of knowledge."

            "Unfortunately, that spawns both the trivia facts and the extra information, but I can deal with it."

            "For laughing at me."  She looked up.  "Wait...for laughing at me?"

            "Hold on.  These next two go with that one."

            "Oh, I see.  For laughing with me."

            "And?"

            "For laughing.  Can I laugh at you now?"

            "I'd prefer you didn't, but I have yet to prove that you can be controlled."

            She glared, then picked another rose.  "For stealing my fries."

            He shrugged.  "It's a system, I choose not to question it."

            "For letting me yell at your roommate's cats."

            "You can't convince me that they're normal cats.  Spawn of Satan, more likely."

            "For caring."

            "And that isn't just for me.  It's about the way that you are, how you help people, how deeply you care and how much you do."

            "For your friendship."

            "Which I am eternally grateful for."

            "For being valuable."

            "I had no idea, that day, just how valuable you would become and I don't think you knew, either.  You are more valuable to me than anything, Donna.  Anything.  In fact, you are beyond value."

            Donna felt the tears, which had been threatening since the very beginning, start to pool in her eyes.  Josh pulled out his handkerchief and, handing it to Donna, said, "we're not done yet, so I need you to hang in there, okay?"

            She nodded.

            "I think I'll find the next one, since I know there's something appropriate in here."  Displacing a few of the roses, he found what he was looking for and handed it to her, grinning slightly.

            She laughed, smiling up at him, as she read. "For your tears."

            "I know that sometimes I'm the cause of them, and not for being nice, and I'm sorry.  Even when it's not my fault, and especially if there's nothing I can do to make it better, I hate watching you cry...but the enormity of your heart amazes me."

            "For your comfort."

            "During the tears, and after.  For the little things...for the big ones."

            "For your beauty."

            "Which should have been something better than 'beauty', but I couldn't quite capture the words."

            Josh smiled as Donna quickly reached for another rose, attempting – but failing – to hide the blush coloring her cheeks.  "You only look more exquisite now...alabaster skin has its benefits."

            She tried to ignore him, still blushing.  "For your grace."

            "Except, perhaps, for an incident involving senior citizens and your keyboard, you are able to handle everything that's thrown at you; and we both know that there is no way to prepare for some of the predicaments we find ourselves in."

            "For your wit."

            "Helpful in any situation."

            "For your love of life."

            "Because...I don't know.  That one's just because."

            "For being you."

            "Which is exactly who you are."

            She raised an eyebrow.  "Was that supposed to make sense?"

            "It made sense in my head."

            "Okay."

            "No, really."

            "For your trust."

            "Because it is a precious thing."

            "For..."  She faltered as she saw the words, and she looked at Josh with wide eyes.  Looking back at the paper, she tried again.  "For..."  Stopping once more, she felt the tears track slowly down her face as Josh moved closer, pulling her in for a hug.  Wrapping her arms around him, she laid her head on his shoulder and cried.

            Rubbing his hand across her back soothingly, he mumbled softly into her hair.  She took a deep breath, summoning her strength, and whispered, "For the rules."

            Josh pulled back so he could see her face, using his thumbs to brush away her tears.  "I know...we don't really talk about it.  That summer, Donna, you saved my life.  As soon as I was out of the surgeons' hands, they put me in yours.  You had all of the senior staff under your thumb – not even Leo dared to break the rules.  You did so much, and I know that I am not easy in the best of times so I can only imagine me at my worst."  He paused, taking a breath before continuing.  "It hurt.  It hurt so much, all the time.  And I was frustrated, because I couldn't ignore it, I couldn't fix it, I couldn't focus on something else, I couldn't even walk across the room without needing ten minutes to recover from the exertion.  My work, my life, was off limits.  You were always there, always.  Every time I needed to lean on you – even when I didn't want to admit it, even when I resented you for it – you were there.  You put me back together, Donnatella."

            "I didn't do a very good job."

            "No one could have done better."

            "Then why did you break again?"

            He pulled her back into his arms, resting his cheek on her blond head.  "That was my fault, there's nothing you could have done.  There's nothing anyone could have done.  You know me, I brood in silence.  I didn't want to be weak, and I didn't want to be pitied, and I didn't want to lose all of you...I was terrified of that."

            "So were we."

            "I know.  I'm sorry."  He sighed, toying with her hair.  "Enough of that, okay?  What else have you got?"

            She reached for the basket, picking one of the two remaining roses.  "For every day I've spent with you."

            "Every day.  I know that it was the smallest of chances that brought you into my life, so don't think I don't realize just how lucky I was.  You have enriched my life in so many ways, filled it with laughter, brightened it, and made me a better person."

            "Last one...for everything our future holds."

            "Which should be self-explanatory.  And now we've reached the fun part of the evening."

            "This wasn't fun?"

            "Well...not so much the crying part."

            "What about the locked-in-the-basement portion?"

            "Did you forget that we had no numbers?"

            "It could have been worse.  In fact, we could have still been in there."

            Josh groaned.  "Let's forget about that possibility unless you want me to have nightmares.  Now, do you want to hear my question or not?"

            "I want."

            Josh slid closer to her, taking her hands in his.  "Each rose represents one of the reasons I love you.  Because I do.  I love you, Donnatella, with my whole heart.  I know I'm not perfect, and you deserve...everything.  I didn't want to lose you, but I was scared to love you.  It took me long enough to realize it, but I'm more than willing to make up for it now.  I love you, so I guess my first question is if you might, possibly, love me back?"

            For a minute she couldn't speak.  Josh bowed his head, staring at their joined hands, unable to look at her.  Smiling, she pulled one hand away, running it through his unruly hair.  At times, he could be amazingly insecure.  "Oh, Josh...yes.  Yes, I love you."

            He pulled her into his arms, smile lighting his face.  "Really?"

            "Really."

            "Well, okay then."  Brushing the hair from her face, he trailed his fingers along her cheek as he leaned in, kissing her softly.

            Though she responded enthusiastically, he soon pulled back – much too soon, in Donna's opinion.  "You can do better than that, Joshua Lyman."

            "I can, but not just yet.  We have some business to finish first."

            "Whatever it is, it can wait."

            "I beg to differ.  And stop looking at me like that, it won't work."

            "Are you sure?"  She asked, pouting.

            "I, uh...yeah.  I'm sure.  It's time for question number two."

            "Oh.  I suppose I could be convinced, as long as you promise more of this," she paused, kissing him briefly, "for later."

            He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately resisted the temptation.  "There will be much, much more of that, just give me a few minutes."

            She sighed heavily, reluctant, but motioned for him to speak.

            "Now I know that we're skipping a few steps here, but after working in the west wing of the White House for four years you should be used to the accelerated pace.  Besides, I think we've wasted enough time already, and I for one do not intend to waste any more."

            Josh stood, took something out of his pocket, and kneeled before Donna.  She gasped, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth.

            "I love you, and I can't imagine being without you ever again.  There is nothing I want more than to make you happy, to love you and treat you the way that you deserve.  I want to share my life with you.  I want to wake up with you in my arms every morning and go to bed with you at night.  I want...I want a family, and I want to start with you."  He reached for her left hand, holding up a diamond ring.  "Will you be my family, Donnatella?  Will you marry me?"

            "Yes."  As soon as she said it, Josh slipped the ring on her finger and sat beside her once more, pulling her into his lap.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in close.  "So, can we go back to the kissing now?"

            "Absolutely."

            Several minutes later, as she absently placed kisses on his face and neck, he managed to whisper, "Aren't you glad you revised your answer?"

            She stopped mid-kiss, pulling back to look at him as she smiled widely and began to laugh.  Laying her head on his chest, she hugged him more tightly.  "Indeed I am.  Although, think how much more fun we could have had, locked _all alone_ in that room for _hours_ if you had asked me then."

            Josh groaned.  "I told you, I couldn't!  At least, not if I wanted to be able to provide for my wife."

            "Your wife.  I like the sound of that.  But why was it, exactly, that the President made you wait?"

            "Something about not making a decision based on uncertainty.  I began listening selectively around hour three, so I'm not sure what the final argument was.  Trust me, asking the President of the United States for permission to marry is not the easiest thing in the world.  He made it very clear that it had to be after the election, though, so I told him that I would wait until then, but not a minute later."

            "And everyone was...supportive?"

            "Yes.  Apparently, my falling in love with you didn't surprise many people.  They joked a little bit about you needing to be crazy before you'd agree to this, but they're happy."

            "And so am I.  Of course, they're probably right about the crazy part."  She kissed him, then hopped off his lap and grabbed his hands, tugging until he stood.  "Come on Josh, we have a party to go to!"

            "Are you sure you don't want to stay here for a while?   You know, alone with your...me?"

            "With my you?"

            "Yes."

            "You sure you work for the President?"

            "I am."

            "Then let's go hear how his acceptance speech went, since I'm sure we've missed that by now."

            "Yeah, but we've got it on tape.  In addition to already _knowing_ what it says since we've been working on it for the last two weeks."

            "You mean that Toby and Sam have been working on it."

            "I gave insight!"

            "If that's what you want to believe..."

            Josh looked hurt, so Donna wrapped her arms around him and gave him a kiss.

            "I must say, I like this whole kissing thing."

            "Really..."

            "And I helped with the speech."

            She smiled.  "You did, I was only kidding."

            He kissed her.  "You know what else I like?"

            "You like something besides the kissing?"

            "In fact I do.  I like this," he said, kissing her left hand, "very much."

            "It's beautiful.  And all the more reason to go back to the party...I want to show off the ring my fiancé got me."

            Josh smiled, dimples showing, close once more to bouncing.

            "I think I figured out something else you like."

            "What's that?"

            "Me calling you my fiancé."

            "Yeah.  But you like it, too."

            "I do.  So can we go back to the party?"

            "We can."

            Josh let go of her long enough for her to pick up the basket, then wrapped his arm around her waist as they left the room.  They stopped just outside the room where they had been earlier, listening to the sounds of the celebration which was still going on.

            "I can't believe they're still here."

            "Are you kidding?  Skip out on a party?  That's our job."

            "The first time wasn't our fault, the second was all you."

            "I could have done without the first time."

            "We caught up with the information eventually, it's not like we missed the first half of a movie."

            "Do you mean to say that there are people who aren't interested in the dramatic qualities of an election?"

            "Sadly, yes, they do exist."

            "Not around here."

            "I think that's a safe bet.  But seriously, we do have to work tomorrow.  What is everyone still doing here – with the exception of those who live here." 

            "We do have to come in, but we get to be late.  Also, unlike us, they had to work for a while tonight – that little matter of a press conference and all – so they haven't been celebrating as long as you think.  Besides, did you really think they'd leave without hearing the results of my inquiries?"

            "So they all knew?"

            "I kind of had to tell them.  Sam was first because, well, he's Sam, then I had that whole ordeal with Leo and the President, then CJ and Toby had to know...and do you have any idea how difficult it is to keep something like this from the First Lady?  I think that the senior assistants are still in the dark, though, and all of the other staff.  I'm sorry."

            "Don't worry, Josh, I don't mind."

            "Good."

            "And that's what you guys were up to tonight?"

            "Tonight?"

            "Off in the corner, all serious."

            "You noticed that?"

            "Josh, everyone else was celebrating the fact that we won the Presidential election a few minutes earlier...you stuck out a bit."

            "Oh."

            "Did they help you?"

            "Words of encouragement, with some history of the engagement ring thrown in there for good measure.  You wouldn't believe how nervous I was.  The wooing, however, was all me."

            "Oh, I was wooed, was I?"

            "You were indeed.  You ready to go back to the party now, beautiful fiancée mine?"

            She kissed him softly.

            "Is that a yes?"

            "Yes."

            Hand in hand, they went back to join their friends.

end

**Note:** In case anyone is wondering, 71 is the number of words in the first sentence (which is also the first paragraph) of the Declaration of Independence, and 42, of course, is the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything.


End file.
